


Carnivore Carnival

by Honeybeelzebub



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Angst, Circus, Enemies to Lovers, Fluff, Forbidden Love, Hisoka is an illumi simp but that’s canon, Illumi’s a good brother in this I refuse for him to be abusive, M/M, Machi is a lesbian as she should be, Magic, Magical Creatures, Monster Hunters, Monsters, Slow Burn, Vampire AU, Vampire Family, Vampire Hunters, Victorian-ish time period, chrollo ring leader, chrollo vampire, feitan short sad clown, hisoillu, hisokas a clown magician with the troupe, illumi redemption arc, illumi wears corset dresses because he’s pretty and would rock one, killua and gon are also forbidden pals but not romantic because they’re literally children, killua angel baby boy, kind of a twilight/ Romeo and Juliet sitch ya know, kurapika vampire hunter, leorio town doctor, magical au, paku is a witch, phantom troupes a literal circus troupe, uvo werewolf, vampire, zoldycks are a vampire family Oo la la
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:15:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 14,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27707480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Honeybeelzebub/pseuds/Honeybeelzebub
Summary: The lights, scent of cotton candy and popcorn, and rounds of applause all beckoned those who beheld the sight of the traveling circus. Even those who were better off staying where they were.Illumi, a young vampire in the Zoldyck clan, was forced out of hiding in the comfort and sanctuary of his solitary mountain manor to protect that which he held dearest: his family. Killing was easy, fun even, and the only time in his immortal life that he ever felt anything besides the numbing emptiness plaguing his mind and soul. That is, if he even has one left.Hisoka, a magician traveling with the Phantom Troupe, is given an offer he can’t refuse, and winds up tangled in Illumi Zoldyck’s web. Will he choose his troupe, or trouble?
Relationships: Gon Freecs/Killua Zoldyck, Hisoka & Illumi Zoldyck, Hisoka/Illumi Zoldyck, Kurapika & Leorio Paladiknight, Kurapika/Leorio Paladiknight
Comments: 13
Kudos: 66





	1. CHAPTER 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfic so sorry if it’s not very good but I’m just here to give Illumi the redemption arc I wish he would canonically receive and live out my Illumi in a dress and Hisoillu dreams;)
> 
> Also! Hopefully these links work but in case anyone is interested I’ve made a Pinterest board and Spotify playlist with pictures and music that remind me of the story so far and what’s to come:)
> 
> [ board](https://pin.it/Qebpo5v)
> 
> [ playlist ](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/42vnLVAkzWntEsqxHohKpj?si=xuVe_D5iQlyXpEXzVKM6nw)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Illumi?”_
> 
> _Killua’s big blue eyes peered up to meet with his brother’s empty black ones_.  
>  _“Have you ever seen a circus?”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Just tuning in before the story starts to say that I apologize profusely for the pretty bland writing in the first two chapters. If you find the concept interesting but the writing style boring I promise you it’s just a learning curve problem I fixed around chapter 3 so please don’t give up on it just yet! Currently the first two chapters are under a grammatical reconstruction, if this note is still shown in the beginning then I’m still in the process of figuring out how to rewrite it without changing any of the plot for readers that have already passed this checkpoint. But, if there isn’t a note anymore, then the rewriting is over and hopefully you guys enjoy! Thank you so much for clicking on my story and let me know in the comments at any point what you think/any questions, comments, and/or concerns! Thank you, have a great day~ <3

“Come one, come all and see the premiere of the Terrific Traveling Phantom Troupe! Behold amazing feats of strength, comedy, and skill! Lion taming, clowns, trapeze artists, and more! Step right up and grab a flyer for the marvelous show! Tickets are a nickel at the door!”

Killua fought the urge to clasp his hands over his ears and drown out the overwhelming cacophony of announcements, carriages, and footsteps all around him. None of which compared to the loudest sound of all: heartbeats. The orchestra of blood pulsing in the veins of those around him was almost enough to make Killua sick. It wouldn’t have been so bad if it weren’t for the hot sun beating down on his pale skin. That was, until a shadow rose above his head.

His eyes darted up as he noticed the black parasol now hovering above him, shielding him as much as possible from the sun’s scalding rays. 

“How are you feeling, Kil?”

His eldest brother, Illumi, had said with a faint hint of concern ebbing in his voice. 

“I’m fine. Nothing can bother me, I don’t need your help,” Killua grumbled stubbornly. Although he didn’t care to show it in front of his father, Silva, who was trailing a couple of yards in front of the pair, Killua greatly appreciated the assistance and secretly hoped Illumi would not take it back. Illumi, who was used to Killua’s hard headed ways, did not waver as he continued to carry the parasol over his baby brother, sacrificing himself to the sun and it’s pesky effects.

It was not often that Killua was given the opportunity to leave their family home, especially during the day time, and even though the sunlight and hypersensitivity aspect was uncomfortable, he still enjoyed the change of scenery. The occasion was special: their father would be leaving on a business trip in a couple of hours and wanted to spend time with Killua and Illumi before his departure. To the unfamiliar eye they appeared to be a regular father and his sons having a day trip together for casual fun and enjoyment, perhaps even running errands, but such things were never the case for the Zoldycks. Everything was always about training, this occasion being no different than any other.

Killua needed practice being around humans in the daylight without being overwhelmed with what they referred to as Bloodlust: a hunger that consumed every part of his body. Every nerve ending, joint, and muscle ached to kill, screaming to sink his still growing fangs into the neck of an unsuspecting stranger. The young Zoldyck boy needed to be more well adjusted around humans, because if he wasn’t; if any one of them slipped up in any way, their family secret would be exposed. Which, to severely underestimate the matter, would mean big, _big_ trouble for their clan. Public killing in broad daylight was forbidden, which seemed simple enough but the only problem was the sun. Due to their.. _unusual_ familial circumstances, being out before dark was difficult. It heightened their senses in an uncomfortable way, often giving the younger and therefore untrained members headaches, nausea, hypersensitivity, and an increased Bloodlust. Something Killua was still learning to control, and by receiving Illumi’s help he was only making himself appear weaker to Silva. Weak was not an adjective Killua, or any of the Zoldycks for that matter, would use to describe themselves or want to be characterized as. 

Still, his hands were shaking with hunger and his mind felt hazy from the pounding heat. Killua clenched his fists and grit his teeth, fighting against the discomfort and refusing to be such a dead weight to his family. He often vowed to himself that he would be a well functioning member of his clan and mundane society if it were the last thing he ever did. To Killua, any amount of pain or sun related torment was better than staring at the same walls in his home every day for all of eternity.

A colorful flyer distracted Killua from his regularly scheduled grumbling. On it read: THE PHANTOM TROUPE SPECTACULAR PREMIERE!!! in big bold letters..

“Illumi?”

Killua’s big blue eyes peered up to meet with his brother’s empty black pair. 

“Have you ever seen a circus?” He asked, quizzically.

Illumi looked ahead and his eyebrows knit together. 

“Yes.” 

“Well?,” asked the younger and curious Zoldyck brother, “How was it?”

Judging from his expression alone, Killua assumed it wasn’t good.

“Messy. Unsanitary. Loud. Not my cup of tea, personally. I’ll never understand human entertainment.” Illumi responded, a frown drawing his lips downwards.

“What happens at a circus?” Killua questioned further, hoping to steal more information out of him.

Illumi sighed.

“Well, it depends on the circus really. Typically there are ring leaders, sometimes sword swallowers, jugglers, lion tamers, and” he paused for a second as his nose scrunched in disgust. “Clowns.”

“That sounds terrible.” Killua said. It didn’t sound terrible at all. It sounded exciting, but he wasn’t ready to let Illumi know that.

“It is.”

”Is it difficult to be around so many of the...villagers at once?” Killua asked carefully so as not to alert any passerbys that could eavesdrop on them.

Illumi looked down at his brother and ruffled his fluffy white hair, it’s coloration being the complete opposite of his own. That was the case for all of their physical features except for shared bone structure.

”At first, yes. It is. But you’ve been doing well so far in your practices. Perhaps in a year or two Father will allow me to take you to one. It’d be much more difficult to deal with if you were, say, Alluka or Kalluto who never leave the comfort of their rooms.”

“Illumi. Killua.” Silva’s voiced called the boys to attention, ending their conversation. 

“Yes father?” Illumi’s back straightened to full attention as he faced the tall, intimidatingly built white haired man now facing them.

“It is time to head back home, my ship will be leaving soon. Do not forget your mother will be back in a week, so that means no funny business boys. Illumi, you’re in charge while we’re gone. Don’t make me regret it.”

“Yes father,” Illumi and Killua responded in unison. 

When Silva’s back turned Killua made the decision to think with his heart instead of his head for once, despite his spiel on funny business and regret. Swiftly, in a calculated move that a regular 12 year old would not have been able to make without slipping, he kicked up a flyer while he walked, sending it floating up to his waist. Stretching his fingertips to quickly snatch the blue paper without alerting Illumi, Killua huffed to cover the sound of the program’s crinkling. In just 3 swift movements with one hand, he folded the memo into a square and quietly slid it into his back pocket, all the while never moving his gaze from the back of his father’s head. He did not need Illumi or Silva to ask what he was doing, nor would he know how to respond. All he knew was this: if caught, Killua would be in deep, _deep_ shit. 


	2. CHAPTER 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _”I’m Killua,” he said._   
>  _“I’m Gon.”_

“Aunt Mito! I’m going out now!” 

“Okay Gon but be safe and back before nightfall!”

Gon hurried to slip on his worn green boots and jacket, realizing he would need to repair it or get a new one soon when he noticed the small wooden toggles on the verge of falling off. He decided that would be a problem for later Gon as he stepped out of his house.

“Come one, come all and see the show!”

His ears perked up when he heard a street vendor calling out to the bustling crowd. 

“ _This is it_ ,” Gon thought to himself. “ _This is my chance_.”

“Excuse me, sir?” He asked the vendor, “May I please have one of those?” He pointed to the flyers in the man’s hand.

The vendor smiled and patted Gon’s green and black hair before handing the young boy a brightly colored paper. 

“Look at the manners on you! Are you alone though? Where’s your parents?” The man spoke with concern.

“Don’t worry,” Gon replied, “My dad will be here soon.”

. . .

NIGHTFALL

Mito placed a gentle kiss on Gon’s forehead before reaching to tuck him into bed. 

“Mito, I’m twelve now, that’s basically an adult you don’t need to tuck me in still,” Gon blushed. 

“Oh really?” Mito’s eyebrows raised in surprise. “Oh goodness how could I have missed it! You’re a man now, so I suspect you’re ready to go out and work at the paper mill downtown, or maybe apprentice with the butcher. Tch tch tch, I do wish you would have told me sooner! There’s so many plans to be made.” Mito sighed and clicked her tongue.

Gon’s eyes widened in fear.

“N-no! I didn’t mean it like that! I don’t want to work at the mill or the butcher! Or anywhere else!”

Mito held her hands in a surrender like manner, “No no you were right you’re a grown man now. I’ll have to speak to the mill at sunrise to see if they could squeeze you in.”

As she turned on her heel a small hand shot out from under the covers and held on to her wrist. 

“Aunt Mito?”

She hid a smile and turned back to face her nephew. 

“Yes, Gon?”

“Will you tuck me in?”

She smiled softly at him and nodded.

“Of course I will, and I always will, no matter how old and stubborn you get. I’ll always be here to tuck you in.”

“Thank you,” Gon smiled up at her as her hands moved to tuck the blanket under his body. “I love you Aunt Mito.”

“I love you too Gon, goodnight,” she blew out the candle by his bedside before leaving the room, the door clicking shut behind her.

He waited for a couple of minutes, listening to her footsteps fading off down the hallway. Then, he pulled the covers down and slipped out of bed and into his clothes, making sure to secure the flyer in his pocket and a nickel for the entrance fee.

Moonlight streamed in through the window in Gon’s bedroom, illuminating the small wooden bed, desk, and dresser. His fishing pole in the corner gleamed as light reflected off of it. He would not need that today though, all he needed now was luck on his side and the hope that today would be the day.

Today Gon would meet his father, Ging, the world famous monster Hunter.

That is, if all goes according to plan.

The window barely made a sound as his hands pushed up on the edge of the glass. Leaving a small rock he had shoved in his pocket earlier in the day on the sill, so as not to lock himself out, Gon slipped out into the night.

. . .

The walk to the plaza was short, but the cold air blowing through Gon’s jacket and bones made it feel like hours. Still, Gon was a tough kid with an incredible amount of stamina and willpower, and a little chilly air was not going to be enough to stop him.

The young boy was met with colorful lights streaming through the huge circus tent and the scent of popcorn and peanuts wafting into his nose. Suddenly he no longer felt the hint of exhaustion weighing on his frame, he felt excited. 

“Ticket?” The vendor at the door asked before his eyes focused on Gon and his smile widened. 

“Oh hey there little buddy! Did you ever find your dad?” 

Gon smiled back at the familiar face from earlier. 

“Not yet, I’m supposed to meet him inside.” 

“Okay then son, I’ll just let you on in then since you’ve been so polite. Not many kids your age have taken it upon themselves to be patient with this old timer.”

A shout from behind them stole Gon and the vendor’s attention. 

“What do you mean leave?! You’re making her upset!” A young voice shouted at the other ticket man. 

The owner of the ruckus was a white haired boy standing defensively in front of a young girl with long black locks. The girl’s eyes were welling with tears and Gon felt a tug in his chest. 

“I’m sorry kid but the rules are rules you have to pay to get in. You should’ve thought of that before coming.”

If looks could kill the ticket vendor would be obliterated. The boy’s glare was enough to make even Gon’s arm hair raise. He decided to move into action. 

“Hey!” He called out with a smile, skipping over to the pair. “What took you guys so long? Dad’s already inside, c’mon follow me.”

Without hesitation he grabbed the boy’s hand, making a mental note of how cold it was, and walked them over to the ticket vendor he was previously engaged in conversation with. 

“I’m so sorry to bother you again but it seems my brother and sister forgot their ticket admission, and I only have a nickel. Is there any way you would let us through?” Gon peered helplessly into the man’s eyes.

It worked. 

“Okay okay,” he sighed. “Don’t tell anyone though, I don’t wanna lose my job. Go find your dad and be sure not to cause any more trouble kids.”

Gon smiled politely up at him before thanking the man and walking inside of the tent, the boy and girl in tow.

Gon stopped when they were inside and faced the two kids. The boy was looking at him with eyes wide, the emotion lingering behind them was indiscernible. 

“I hope you don’t mind me helping you guys, I sort of acted without thinking.” He blushed.

The white haired boy’s eyes were fixated on Gon’s, the expression behind them softening. 

“I’m Killua,” he said. 

“I’m Gon.”

“How old are you?” Killua questioned. 

“Twelve.”

Killua smiled, “me too.”

“Ahem” a high pitch voice rose from behind them. 

“Oh!” Killua said, “and this is my little sister, Alluka.”

Gon smiled and introduced himself to her.

Killua realized their hands were still entwined but made no move to undo it.

“Why did you help us?” His eyebrow raised. 

“It seemed like the right thing to do,” Gon beamed.

“Huh.”

. . .

Gon had never made many friends before, or at least, none his own age. He spent most of the night with Killua and Alluka, but still scanning the room every few minutes, searching for a face similar to his own but aged with experience and years. 

The nickel in his pocket had been spent on cotton candy for Alluka and popcorn for Killua and Gon. He noticed how throughout the time they spent together Killua began to slowly become more and more comfortable with him, and it made Gon smile to himself. He really liked this cold, cat-like boy he linked arms with. 

The show was not even halfway over yet, due to it taking a while for everyone to be seated and for the show to begin. The three kids sat in a row of chairs near the front of the crowd, hoping to get a better view of the night’s acts. 

Gon noticed Killua’s eyes light up when a tall, brightly dressed man with pink hair came out from behind the curtain. 

“Is that a clown?” He asked Gon. 

“I think so.” 

The clown was dressed in bright attire, a ruffled collar at his throat, and had a star and tear drop painted on his cheeks. 

“He looks weird.” Killua stated. 

Suddenly the man smirked at the crowd. The curled points of his shoes spun on the ground, kicking up a cloud of dirt as he whirled in a circle, throwing playing cards at the crowd in every direction. Before they reached the audience though, they dissipated into the form of pink butterflies, flying around the tent. A gasp was shared by the crowd, before a round of applause broke out. Gon was in awe, for he had never seen magic so up close.

Killua on the other hand, began to tense up. Gon looked over and squeezed his hand. 

“Are you ok?”

“It’s loud.”

Killua’s face looked paler than usual, the remaining color draining from his lips. 

He closed his eyes, but they almost immediately flung open when he felt two warm hands on either side of his head. 

“W-What are you doing?” 

Gon smiled at his new friend, “Making it quiet.”

Killua’s throat tightened, a warm feeling spreading across his chest and cheeks. It only furthered when Allukas tiny fingers curled around his own, entwining their matching chilled hands. 

When the roar of applause settled, Gon removed his hands and turned back to the show. Killua all the while, still staring, baffled at the bright boy at his side. 

“Look!” Gon pointed at the clown.

A pink butterfly had escaped the man’s palm and flew to rest on the tip of Killua’s nose. The clown and the boy locked eye contact, an eyebrow raising on his painted face in amusement. He winked at the trio and the butterfly evaporated into thin air, leaving only a trace of the scent of bubblegum. 

“Hmph,” Killua scoffed, “Thats it? He can make butterflies? That’s kind of lame.”

The boy was wrong though, and the clown continued his performance. He taunted and teased the crowd with magic tricks, the magic growing more and more advanced as his show went on. After a while, his act was up, and he snuck back into the darkness behind the red curtain. Yet every once in a while, Gon saw a pair of bright yellow eyes peering into the crowd in their direction. He told himself he was just imagining things and ignored it.

Gon once again scanned the crowd, searching for his father. The man was nowhere to be found and the show would be ending soon. For the first time all night, Gon’s happy exterior faltered. Had this all been for nothing?

When the final act, a sword swallower named Nobunaga, had ended, Gon’s father was still nowhere to be seen. A tall, well dressed man he had seen once before at the beginning of the show stepped out to announce the end of the night. Chrollo, Gon remembered, the ring leader. The Phantom Troupe lined up and took a bow. Gon noticed the clown was next to Chrollo, and when they bowed he whispered something to his ring leader. Chrollo’s eyes lifted and settled on Gon, Killua, and Alluka. It was only for an instant, before his focus returned to the rest of the crowd and his troupe. 

. . .

“Are you sure?” Chrollo whispered to the magician, Hisoka. 

“Positive. A Zoldyck.”

“How are they here?” 

“No clue. But it’s best that this...situation, gets resolved before the others find out. It might get messy.”

“Then resolve it.”

Chrollo sighed, stole one last look at the three children hidden in the wave of villagers, and rose from his bow before disappearing behind the curtain.

. . .

Killua, Gon, and Alluka made their way through the crowd, heading towards the exit.

“Did you guys have fun?” The vendor asked when they reached his spot near the tent flap.

“Yes sir!” Gon smiled at him. 

Killua just nodded in response while Alluka shyly held onto his shirt hem.

The vendor let loose a hearty chuckle, his rosy cheeks pinching his eyes into a gleaming squint. 

“That’s good! I’m glad! What was your favorite part?”

Killua spoke up this time. 

“The lion.”

The man’s eyebrows rose up, surprised the boy actually paid him any attention. 

“Well, if you kids are okay with being a little late to supper at home, you can meet him if you want.”

Alluka’s eyes lit up. 

“Kil? Can we really?”

Killua looked down at his little sister’s sweet, excited face. He looked up at Gon, inaudibly asking for permission. Gon nodded. 

“Of course.”

The man smiled at them, “Well come on then!”

They followed the ticket vendor down a small path to the back of the tent and Gon felt his heart rate quicken with excitement.

The man stopped in his tracks. Gon looked around, not seeing the large cat. They were a ways behind the tent, far from the stragglers still exiting the show. It was probably sometime around midnight, Gon figured, considering he could barely see Killua and Alluka who were right next to him. Alluka reached for his hand. Gon noticed how cold her fingers were and almost flinched. 

“ _Wow_ ,” Gon thought to himself, “ _the circulation in this family must really suck_.” 

“Is something wrong?” he asked out loud. 

The man didn’t turn to face them. 

“That depends. Do you count lying as something wrong?”

Gon felt Killua tense up beside him, he did the same. 

“What are you talking about?” 

The man laughed, the sound differing starkly from the sweet one from earlier. This laugh sounded empty, fake.

“Well, boy, you sure don’t look like a Zoldyck to me.” He turned and spoke to Gon, a wicked smile dancing on his lips.

A bag thrown over his head muffled Gon’s cry for help.


	3. CHAPTER 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Illumi’s blood was boiling, the ends of his hair began to seethe with Bloodlust, but he had to compose himself. If he killed these men he would delay finding his siblings. He wouldn’t risk their safety, no matter how much he ached to sink his teeth into the neck of the clown._

Screams were common, welcome even, in the Zoldyck manor. The vibrations shook the floorboards, being soaked up by skin on wood, felt through every inch of Illumi as he laid on the floor. 

_inhale._  
_exhale._

Breathing wasn’t necessary, but it was relaxing. The rhythm of his chest moving up and down, up and down, in sync with the vibrations, in contrast with the still air. He was completely at ease. Completely in tune with his surroundings and yet, so far away from it all.

That was, until he realized how quiet it was. Minus the screaming it was _too quiet_.

He sighed, knowing it was time to reel himself back into existence. As Illumi stood up the screaming stopped, most likely due to whoever was in the dungeon’s death, and the only sound he could hear was his skirt swishing as he moved to the wall, pressing his slightly pointed ear against it. Just _listening_.

Nothing. He heard nothing. Something was wrong.

His heels clicked faster and faster as he ran through the corridors, the sheer inhuman speed generating enough wind to blow out the torches he flew past.

“Killua? Alluka? Kalluto? Milluki?” He called out.

He stopped in front of Milluki’s room seeing him and Kalluto drawing in front of a window. The sun was setting, the only light in the room were a few candles spread out across the table. 

“What do you want Illumi?” Milluki asked, clearly irritated. 

“Where are your brother and sister?” He asked curtly, unfazed by Milluki’s sass. 

“How should we know? You’re the one who’s always up their asses all day long-“

Before Milluki could finish he was in the air, held up against the wall with a fistful of his collar in Illumi’s hand, his extended nails tearing into the fabric. The scent and aura of Bloodlust filled the air, cocooning the two brothers in a dark shell of pure rage. 

“I suggest you keep your smart remarks where they belong before I tear out your tongue and feed it to Mike.” 

Illumi’s eyes were pitch black, unspoken threats waiting to be said swirling in his pupils, and yet his face looked calm to the outside world. No eyebrows were knit or teeth bared, just a relaxed expression coupled with the eyes of a killer. 

Milluki knew damn well Illumi was _not_ kidding.

“Okay, I apologize. Put me down now?”

Illumi released his grip, sending Milluki falling on his ass. 

“Seriously brother, I don’t know where they are or what they’re doing. Maybe they’re outside playing with Mike. I think I heard the door open earlier after Father left.”

Illumi did not grace Milluki with a response, he just turned and left, his heels playing a monotone eighth note tune as he walked away. He checked Killua and Alluka’s rooms: both empty. He searched the servants’ quarters, dungeon, spare rooms, kitchen, parlor, secret passages; the entire house. His little siblings were gone. Surely they would not just leave the sanctuary of their mountain by their own free will, Illumi could not guess any reason as to why they would _choose_ to leave. Someone had stolen them. Someone had taken his precious Killua and Alluka.

_They were going to pay._

. . .

Illumi had no idea how someone could have broken into their impenetrable fortress. At first, he considered the servants, but they knew better than to betray his family. He wracked his mind, searching for answers when he remembered their morning in the plaza. 

_Come one come all!_

The Phantom Troupe. Of course.

It made sense that an outcast to their high society like Chrollo Lucilfer, circus scum, would commit such an audacious crime. Illumi’s hand flexed, the muscles contorting and stretching, his nails elongating and sharpening into miniature knives. His mind filled with images of those knives slicing into Lucilfer’s delicate throat, ruby droplets scattering on Illumi’s expensive dress. He almost couldn’t contain his Bloodlust. Almost.

The plaza looked different at night, it was much easier to be in compared to the morning sun. Illumi remembered how distressed Killua looked, but how resilient he was nonetheless. Illumi saw his strengths in Killua, but also, everything Illumi isn’t. Everything Illumi would die for to protect. Everything he has and will continue to kill for. 

He reached the bright tent, which was seemingly the only light in the town. Like a moth, he continued to approach it. He pulled back the curtain and stepped inside, brandishing poison tipped needles elegantly holding back his long black hair.

Carnival food was littered on the floor, and the troupe was nowhere in sight minus janitors cleaning up. They fell quickly, pins jutting out of their necks. Illumi stepped over their bodies as he walked his war path.

His ears twitched, picking up voices conversing outside in their living tents. He followed the sounds to a dark green tent filled with dust covered orange cushions and random trinkets here and there. A woman was sitting there, knitting a sweater with three arms. She fell faster than the others. Illumi continued through the tents, searching and killing, searching and killing, until his pattern could almost be predicted. And predicted it was.

“Illumi Zoldyck.”

He turned and was face to face with a large hairy beast of a man. 

“My name is Uvo. Chrollo said you would be here eventually, follow me. And please,” he rolled his eyes, “don’t try killing me. We’re being watched.” 

“If you’ve been following me why didn’t you stop me sooner? I killed your friends, perhaps you could’ve spared them,” a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, “but then again, probably not.”

“Oh them?” Uvo laughed, a sound more comparable to a roar. “They weren’t in the Troupe. Just stagehands. Trust me kid,” the light in his eyes went out, replaced by orange slits, his teeth growing into dangerously sharp fangs, Illumi watched as his muscles seemed to shift, changing the man. A werewolf. “If I wanted you dead, you would be.”

“Drop the friendly charade. Where are they?” Illumi demanded.

“Who said I want to be your friend? I’m not sure what the hell you’re on about, just that Chrollo wants to meet you. Hurry up.” 

Uvo led a frustrated Illumi through more tents, until they reached the largest one. It was scarlet with golden fringe, and lights were on inside. The faint sound of heartbeats rang in his ears, and he knew he was not alone. 

Chrollo was sitting on a cushion, reading a book. He looked up at Illumi and raised a hand, which Illumi did not shake. “Tough crowd,” he exhaled.

“Where are Killua and Alluka?”

Chrollo laughed, shutting his book. “Right down to business aren’t we? Well to be truthful, I’m not sure.”

Illumi’s arm shot back into his braid, reaching for a pin when a strong grip stopped him. 

“Careful there,” a deep voice whispered coyly in his ear, “you don’t want to start what you can’t finish.”

“Careful there,” Illumi responded, stepping down hard onto the man’s foot with a heel. “You don’t want to touch what you can’t afford.” The man groaned, but his grip was steady. 

“That was a cheap shot,” he said through bared teeth, laughing all the while. 

“A shot worthy of its target. Unhand me.”

He didn’t listen. Illumi turned his head sharply, glaring at his oppressor. 

_Of course he’s a clown._. 

Yellow eyes met his glare, the clown’s eyebrow raised, beckoning Illumi to continue their verbal dance. He refused to indulge him. Instead he made a noise of disapproval, as if disappointed by his apprehendor, and turned his attention back to Chrollo, ignoring the clown entirely. He knew without looking he had succeeded in getting under his skin. 

“What do you mean you aren’t sure?” 

Chrollo shrugged. 

“I thought it was pretty obvious. I don’t know. They were here earlier with a little boy, human no doubt. And then,” he waved his fingers in the air, “poof. Gone.”

Illumi’s blood was boiling, the ends of his hair began to seethe with Bloodlust, but he had to compose himself. If he killed these men he would delay finding his siblings. He wouldn’t risk their safety, no matter how much he ached to sink his teeth into the neck of the clown. Illumi had no doubt his blood probably tasted like hot garbage, the thought almost made him gag. 

“You’re lying. Your troupe kidnapped them.”

Chrollo sighed, “my troupe had nothing to do with it. My employees on the other hand...there’s a chance they’re responsible if the kids are missing. But I assure you, Illumi Zoldyck, it is completely coincidental. The kids came here of their own free will.”

“I don’t believe you, but even if by the rare chance you’re not lying, you’re still responsible. Your ‘employees’ actions reflect on you. If I don’t find what I’m looking for on your fair grounds I’ll kill each and every last one of you.” Like always, Illumi had spoken with a lethal calm.

In the corner of the tent Uvo snarled, catching the Zoldyck’s attention. 

“Down boy.” Illumi smirked.

His indisposed hand shook as the clown laughed. 

“Is something funny?” 

The man turned Illumi’s face to meet his own. 

“I find you amusing.”

Illumi scowled. 

“I find you revolting. Your touch alone compels me to scrape off my skin.” 

“Oh ho ho,” the clown laughed. “That I’d like to see.”

“And I’d like to see you roasting on a spit” Illumi smiled, then it dropped.

“Ladies, ladies, you’re both pretty,” a woman with pink hair in the corner had finally spoken up after being silent this entire time. If Illumi hadn’t been so perceptive he wouldn’t have noticed her.

“Fine,” Illumi sighed. “I won’t kill you tonight, but I demand to search your grounds.” 

Chrollo nodded in agreement. 

“But let me make myself clear. If I don’t find them, you die. If I do and they’re harmed, you die. If they’re safe, you still die, just not now. The Zoldyck’s are watching you Lucilfer, congratulations, you’re back on the grid.” Illumi looked to the clown and sneered, “And if your monkey doesn’t unhand me, I’ll kill him now.” 

Chrollo frowned and the clown laughed. 

“Ooo I’m so scared.”

“I’m shocked,” Illumi said, “I guess you’re not the complete imbecile I previously pegged you for.”

“Hisoka,” Chrollo said to the clown.

The man, Hisoka, loosened his grip on Illumi’s wrist but before Illumi could snatch his hand back the man turned it over and kissed its back. 

“It was a pleasure meeting you, Illumi Zoldyck.” Hisoka winked. 

Illumi didn’t respond, he just left the tent, painfully aware of the eyes focused on his back from the tent tops and trees. He wouldn’t let a silly encounter with an idiot distract him from his mission. 

Illumi pulled out more needles, strands of hair falling out of place and framing his cheekbones. Fixing the pins between his knuckles, he smiled, and realizing there was no more reason to hide, he let his Bloodlust run rampant. 

A wicked smile stretched across Illumi’s face. 

_Come out come out wherever you are._


	4. CHAPTER 4

“Gon? Gon are you still there?”

Killua whispered into the darkness, praying his captors wouldn’t hear him. 

“Yeah. Is Alluka?” Gon asked.

“Yes.” She responded. 

Killua’s hands were bound with rope, but that did not stop him from feeling around, searching for their hands. Eventually, he found Alluka’s.

“Alluka,” he whispered, “Stay still, and trust me.”

The rustle of a bag signaled her nod. Killua got to work. His hands stretched and contorted, a family trick he learned when he was very young, and his nails turned as sharp as knives.

He felt around for the rope binding his sister’s wrists and began to saw, moving as quick as possible without alerting the vendor and his helpers. 

“What do you want?” Gon shouted. Killua heard fist meet cheek, but Gon did not make a sound. 

“What do you want?” He shouted again, louder this time.

A male voice was heard only a few feet away, “Will you shut that kid up? Someone’s gonna hear him.”

_So we aren’t too far from the tents, just like I thought._

Killua tried to pay attention to where they were being moved and heightened his sense: he focused on the amount of steps they walked, the fading smell of popcorn, the sound of owls and crickets. From this, he did not learn very much, except that they were nearing a tree line, approximately seven hundred footsteps away from the area they were ambushed. 

Suddenly he reached the last strings of rope on Alluka’s wrists. As the men continued to mutter arguments amongst themselves he whispered, “I can’t cut through all of it or they’ll notice, but when I tell you to I need you to pull in opposite directions. It should give way. Ok?” 

“Okay,” Alluka resounded shakily. “Killua? I’m hungry.”

_Oh god not now, please not now._

“Alluka, push it down. Ignore it. You’re strong, you can do it.”

“Like you and Illumi?” Her voice sounded hopeful. 

“Yes, like me and Illumi.” 

_I should’ve known she was too young to be away from home for long. We should not have been gone for this long anyways._

Killua focused back on their surroundings, realizing the men were no longer talking. 

“WHAT DO YOU WANT?” Gon screamed, with only a kick to what Killua assumed was his side, in response. He heard his friend fall over and winced at the sound.

“Gon what are you doing?” Killua whispered frantically. 

“Trust me,” Gon answered, almost inaudibly. “I have a plan.”

Killua feared for his friend, but in that moment he had no choice but to listen to him. 

“That all you got?!” Gon screamed once again, the sound reverberating off of the trees, confirming Killua’s theory.

Another kick. 

Killua began to smell blood.

. . .

Gon’s side and cheek ached, but he refused to give in to the pain. If it meant escaping this possible life or death situation he could survive a few bruised ribs. 

“Wow mister, you sure are strong,” he laughed, mocking them. 

“You just couldn’t shut it could you?”

Gon winced as another hit landed, this time on his jaw. 

_Perfect._

Every hit that landed gave his body the momentum it needed to slowly fling the bag off of his head. Their first mistake: not securing the bags. If he could see he could warn the others and check their chances of escape. The bag had already slipped halfway off, exposing up to his nose. 

_Just a little more!_

“Killua?” He whispered once his captors were distracted in conversation. “Can you feel my bag near you?” He had heard his voice coming from close by, allowing Gon to guess that they were all within one foot of each other.

He was met with silence as Killua felt around in the grass before his fingertips grazed the material. He did not have to pull much before Gon could see.

“We’re near the woods. There’s four men, all look pretty strong, but I have doubts about their speed. They’re about two yards in front of us with their backs turned.” 

“Ok,” Killua said.

At this point, they didn’t have many options. They could wait to be rescued, fight back, or die. Two options Gon recused to wait for.

“Move your back to mine, quietly.”

Gon did as Killua requested, shifting his weight carefully, trying his best to avoid the dry leaves around him. He felt his friend grab his ropes and begin..sawing?

“How are you doing that?” Gon asked.

“Shh!”

The ropes fell to the ground, freeing Gon.

Gon knew he was strong and fast, but could he go up against four grown men that clearly had no issue hurting a child? There was no room for doubt.

“Killua, can you fight?”

He was met with a soft chuckle that sounded suspiciously wicked. “When we make it out of this there’s a lot you need to know about me.”

Gon chose to take that as a yes, a concerning yes, but one nonetheless. He began to untie Killua’s ropes. The task was difficult, and his body was sore, but in the end he succeeded. 

Killua pulled off his bag and Alluka’s, a sinister smile spread on his face. He seemed to be, glowing? But in reverse? Gon wasn’t sure what to call the seeping black aura that now blanketed his friend like a storm cloud. 

He heard Killua crack his knuckles and neck as he stretched, helping Gon to his feet alongside him.

“Hey shitheads!” Killua shouted at the men. 

_If Mito heard me say that she would probably collapse._

Their captors whirled around, and were about to attack when they noticed Killua, shrouded in darkness with the promise of murder in his eyes. 

_Wait. They weren’t looking at Killua. Something was in the woods._

Gon had never seen needles rain down before. One by one, the men fell, clutching at their punctured areas whilst screaming in pain.

It sounded excruciating, but Gon was more afraid of who was behind the attack. 

The tree line turned dark as a cloud just like Killua’s but much _much_ larger surrounded the area. In the midst of it all was a...woman? 

_”No,”_ Gon realized, _”A man in a dress.”_.

The man’s feminine features contrasted starkly against the looming void rallying around him. The aura grew closer to the trio, seeming to link with Killua’s, the vision before Gon almost biblical.

“Illumi!” Alluka shouted excitedly.

_Oh thank god they know him._ Gon thought to himself.

Illumi, as Alluka called him, didn’t so much as glance in the kids’ direction, his lethal gaze was fixated on the men around them. One was face down on the ground, most likely dead, two more were injured, and one had managed to dodge the attack. 

The man in the trees pulled out the last few needles holding his hair together and swiftly launched them towards the abductors. The survivors went down, and there they stayed. 

Illumi walked gracefully towards the bodies like an angel of death: beautiful and terrifying. The man didn’t bother to check their pulses, instead, he opted for swinging his hand across their throats, decapitating them with his inhumanly sharp nails. 

Gon let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. The forest around them was eerily calm, the grass soaked in blood. He looked around to check their group: Killua was standing with Illumi, and Alluka was face down on the ground. 

_Oh no. Oh no. This can’t be happening._

“Alluka?” Gon asked shakily, his breath creating a cloud in the chill air. 

Gon jumped as the little girl moved, slowly crawling up from her hands and knees and turning to the boy. She smiled sweetly at Gon but her eyes were shining brighter than before, unnervingly. 

_Her mouth was covered in their blood._


	5. CHAPTER 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The velvet petals crushed in his hand, falling to the ground. He stared at the mess in silence._

Gon’s eyes fluttered open, a pounding sensation in his head and torso. Pushing through the pain, he turned his head to view his surroundings.

_White sheets on the bed. Candles reflecting light off of metal instruments on a table. Cabinets lined the walls, their glass doors revealing the medicinal bottles and jars inside. A clinic._

He looked down at his body: white bandages wrapped around his arm and abdomen. 

“You’re finally awake.” A man said, rising from the desk he was sitting in. “Took you long enough.”

“Who are you? What happened?” 

The man shrugged, “I’m not sure what exactly happened, you were found in the town plaza covered in bruises and blood. Everyone’s assumption is you were attacked by thieves and robbed.” 

Gon stared at his hands in confusion. Blood was crusted under his nails and on his knuckles. _Wait._

“What do you mean everyone?”

“Your aunt is here, she’s been worried sick all night kid. But don’t worry, she won’t chew your ear off until I let her in. Right now it’s just us, so, in terms of doctor patient confidentiality, is there anything you can remember from last night that would help our investigation? Anything you’re too afraid to tell your aunt, by chance?”

Gon shook his head, the action shooting a bolt of lightning hot pain through his brain. 

“Use words, not your body. Looks like you got hit pretty hard.” 

“Who are you again?”

The man smiled at Gon, “My name is Dr. Leorio, Mr. Leorio works too.”

“Leorio.” Gon repeated to himself to practice pronouncing the word. A vein in the doctor’s forehead twitched, “ _Doctor_ Leorio.”

“Oh right right, sorry,” said Gon.

Dr. Leorio raised a quizzical eyebrow at him, waiting for an answer to his question. Gon closed his eyes, willing images of that night to his mind, and nothing came up. 

“How long have I been asleep” Gon asked. “Two days.” 

“What?! That’s so long, Aunt Mito’s probably worried sick.” Gon sighed and continued, “I’m sorry Doctor, but I can’t remember anything. I don’t even know why I was in the plaza in the first place.”

“Oh wait,” Leorio mumbled to himself before quickly walking back over to his desk, opening a drawer, and pulling out a bright blue flyer. “This was in your pocket.”

From a distance Gon could make out the bold letters: THE PHANTOM TROUPE SPECTACULAR PREMIERE!!

. . .

The night was quiet, peaceful. Everything Illumi enjoyed.

As his hands met the earth he hummed Chopin’s Nocturne No.2. He found that gardening in the dark was easier for him, and often spent the dead of night outside with his bare feet and fingers in the dirt. His flowers were blooming quite nicely, except for a small patch of cacti. 

“Epiphyllum oxypetalum,” Illumi mumbled to the plant, “you’re quite the stubborn one.” He had been waiting for the Queen of Night flowers to bloom for a while now, hoping to catch them before the dawn wilted their petals. The task was tedious, but distracted him from his current situation.

_”I hate you!” Killua had yelled, his face contorted with fury. Illumi stared wide eyed in shock. “You only think of yourself! He was my only friend! I hate you! I wish you weren’t my brother!” Illumi’s jaw clenched at his words. “Kil, you can’t possibly mean that. I’m just protecting you.” Killua yelled in frustration. “Protecting me?! No! You’re locking me up! All you people want to do is shelter us! I’m sick of it!” Illumi’s eyebrows knit. “Kil, that’s disrespectful. We’re your family.” “No!,” Illumi’s little brother screamed, “You’re not!”_

Remembering the hostile environment they had come home to only a couple of nights prior, Illumi’s knuckles turned white as they gripped a flower absent mindedly. The velvet petals crushed in his hand, falling to the ground. He stared at the mess in silence.

Slowly, he pulled himself to his feet, the edge of his skirt brown with dirt. Illumi felt the soft grass underfoot as he made his way back into the Zoldyck manor, leaving behind his peace and quiet.

Once back in his own room, he stripped off his dirty dress, letting it fall to the floor before entering the adjacent washroom and finding a tub of hot water already waiting for him. For a long while he simply laid in the bath, letting the water rid his body of filth and internal dilemmas. Yet no matter how hard he scrubbed Illumi could not wash off the feeling of guilt weighing heavy on his chest. It was annoying. 

He sighed, leaning his head back against the porcelain, stray sections of hair falling out of the basin and hitting the ground. Illumi shut his eyes and let his mind wander far away from the Zoldyck manor...

_I find you amusing._

“Humans are nothing but headaches,” muttered Illumi as he ran a hand through the length of his hair still floating around him in the water like an obsidian lily pad. When he had reached the ends he stared at his wrist, the sensation of the clown’s grip long faded, but the irritation he filled Illumi with had yet to do the same.

Before his skin had the chance to prune he left the tub, leaving the dirty water a problem for the servants. Wrapped in a towel around his waist, Illumi stood in front of the gaping window in his bedroom, watching the sunrise before returning to his morning duties. 

First things first: burning down the circus.


	6. CHAPTER 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“You know the last person to say that had his mouth sewn shut. It’d be a shame for the same fate to meet those gorgeous lips of yours.”_

“Why can’t we just hire more townsfolk again? This is tiresome,” Hisoka rolled his eyes.

“Boss isn’t exactly in a trusting mood these days. You aren’t even helping much anyways,” Uvo snapped.

“Still,” the magician sighed, “My precious time is being wasted helping you fools clean up trash.” 

Another troupe member, Machi, a pink haired girl collecting litter from the main tent floor, balled up a discarded program and threw it at Hisoka. “Oh please, we all know you have nothing better to do than stare at yourself and scare children.”

Hisoka caught the ball midair and chuckled as he turned it around in his long fingers. “Au contraire, my dear, I do recall you saying I’m pretty when that little Zoldyck fellow came stomping around. I’m sure we could get up to much more entertaining pastimes than cleaning~.”

Machi scoffed, “Pretty fucking annoying. Don’t flatter yourself, Morow. Any time with you is time with trash, now either start helping or get out.”

Hisoka winked, “I love it when you despise me. But don’t fret ma cherie, you don’t have to tell me twice.” He hopped off of the top of the chair he was perched precariously on and strutted towards the exit, leaving behind an irritated Uvo and Machi. 

The sky was not as bright today, the overcast dimming the world around the clown. Hisoka could smell rain approaching and frowned; such weather was dreadful for his makeup. He could already feel his hair beginning to frizz and huffed.

The man looked around, searching for something to do or someone to bother. Seeing everyone was in their tents, assumably busy preparing for the night’s show, Hisoka Morow decided to practice his act in the woods. He had a love hate relationship with the area, enjoying the space to prepare but feeling disappointed when the bugs and wildlife did not applaud his mini performances. 

_Although I’m sure if they could they would._

In fact, the woods helped inspire the themes for some of his acts, the magician’s signature pink butterflies being one of them. Hisoka stopped to breathe in the scent of rain and nature. He much preferred to be the center of attention in a bustling crowd, but in a way, when he was alone in the wooded clearing he was a star: the only unique variable in a sea of inanimate constants. The trees were his audience and he the spectacle, a dazzling performer for the birds, bugs, and leaves. It was in the woods where Hisoka did not feel the need to be anything for anyone, and that was freeing. If only that were enough for him all of the time.

The magic wielding clown took his time setting up his act, trying to imagine the best sequences of tricks to captivate every crowd demographic. The wind whistled as he inhaled, summoning his magic from deep down like a hibernating bear in the winter, feeling it’s sparks spread through his veins until his fingertips radiated with a soft pink glow. The air around Hisoka was cold, but the chance alone to stretch his metaphorical limbs without being bothered was enough to quicken his pulse and warm his blood. 

“Ladies and gentlemen!” He called out to no one in particular, imagining various foreign faces taking place of the plants and trees all around him. “The moment you’ve all been _dying_ for. The one, the only,” he flicked a card into his hand and fanned his face dramatically. 

“Hisoka Morow,” he smirked, before bubblegum pink sparks jutted out from the tips of his fingers like small fireworks on display. The sparks grabbed hold of the trees and began to shapeshift; becoming beautiful rose bushes and vines climbing up the bark. 

“Hm,” he mumbled to himself, “Pretty I suppose, but not exactly jaw dropping.” 

He sighed, and with his released breath the magic dropped, turning into an awkwardly bright sludge pooling by the tree roots, mixing with the dirt. He flexed his fingers before starting again.

. . . 

Illumi had been watching the clown from the trees for a while now, witnessing a pattern unfolding: colorful displays of magic followed by mumbling and head shaking. He assumed the man was a perfectionist, because even though Illumi hated to admit it, his tricks were impressive... _for a clown._

After approximately an hour of lurking in the shadows, he felt a water droplet fall on his cheek, sliding down his angular features. Rain disappointingly put a damper on his arson plans, he realized. The sparse drops soon broke out into a trickle before morphing into a storm. Illumi was taken aback when the magician did not even hesitate to continue his show. It would not be surprising to him if Hisoka didn’t even realize the weather had taken a turn for the worst right before him.

Yellow and blue paint streamed down his face, dying the strands of dark pink hair that were glued down on his forehead with water. Hisoka’s eyes lit up as his tricks broke away from their previous entertainment purposes and turned into something much more violent. Blow after blow, the clown’s magic struck the trees lining his makeshift stage, leaving behind plumes of smoke that were quickly put out by rain. His attacks grew with the storm and Illumi was entranced by the sight.

For a moment he debated killing Hisoka, but decided against it. The fire he could have pinned on a drunken villager and was only a means to scare the troupe away from his territory, but first degree murder of an obviously very skilled magician would be much easier to trace. Giving Chrollo Lucilfer a reason to suspect he went against their temporary truce out of spite would bring unnecessary attention to Illumi’s clan. He had no doubt in his mind that his father, Silva, would be most displeased.

Instead, he continued to watch Hisoka have a one sided battle with the world around him. Surprisingly enough he didn’t even appear to be winded, proving Illumi’s suspicion of his incredible stamina and only backing up his decision to let the clown live.

“Are you just going to hide there all day or will you come out?” Hisoka yelled.

 _“There’s no way he could have seen me”_ Illumi thought to himself. So he waited.

Laughter rang out in the clearing. “I know you’re there. Don’t make me force you out~.”

Still, Illumi hung back in the trees, pressing his body harder against the bark. From this height there was no way clown could see him, not with human eyes at least. Judging from the warmth of his body against his own when they met he certainly wasn’t like Illumi. He was bluffing, weeding out intruders with empty threats. If he could risk any noises the young Zoldyck would have scoffed.

“Fine by me,” Hisoka smiled.

Before Illumi could react the magician spun, flinging his cards at the tree encircling the area, leaving behind trails of what looked something like hot pink flames. They cut through the trunks as if they were butter which gave Illumi barely any time to fling himself away. He didn’t plan on his shoe slipping on the wet bark. There was no where to go but around he decided quickly. His soft steps landed on each falling tree as he flew through the air, his wet hair whipping around him almost getting tangled in the sinking limbs.

A crack of thunder harmonized with the chaos, the boom loud enough to shake even Illumi Zoldyck’s bones. He was left no choice but to jump and reveal himself. 

_If only I could kill him now and face no consequences._

He leapt off of the falling limbs, landing on his feet a couple of yards in front of the clown who was still smiling as they locked glares. 

“Hisoka Morow.” 

The magician exaggerated a bow before responding, “Illumi Zoldyck, pleasant surprise seeing you again. I assume you learned my name in your stalking escapades?”

Illumi cocked his head and jeered at the living and breathing pain in his ass. “You underestimate the value of my time, _Morow_. It seems you have forgotten your little self announced introduction.” 

It was clear by the surprise on his face that if Hisoka weren’t so egotistical he would have flushed in embarrassment. Instead he grinned, his eyes taunting. “I see. So you’ve been here the whole time? Hopefully I gave you a good view~,” he winked.

“If by good view you mean a mediocre display of childish tricks then yes, I guess you did.”

For a moment Hisoka’s grin was almost threatened. Illumi could tell by the way he was so obsessed with perfecting his performance that any criticism would not be well received. 

“You know the last person to say that had his mouth sewn shut. It’d be a shame for the same fate to meet those gorgeous lips of yours.”

A wicked grin broke across Illumi’s face. He looked up at Hisoka through rain soaked eyelashes, water gliding down the exposed skin of his cheeks in torrets, dripping off of the delicate points of his chin and nose. “I would _love_ to see you try.”

Hisoka eyebrows rose with lethal excitement. “It’s funny to hear you say that word: love. From my perspective it seems as if you’ve never known or understood it.” 

Illumi’s eyebrows knit together angrily. Hisoka was playing a very dangerous game. 

“You don’t know anything about me, and although it’s none of your business I’ll have you know my family and I love each other very much. A concept I’m sure you’ve never known, _circus freak_.”

His insult bounced off of Hisoka like rubber. The clown laughed. 

“Funny. That’s not what I heard your little brother screaming at you near this very spot the other night. Killua, was it? Face it Zoldyck, everyone hates you, even that which you love most.”

Illumi moved inhumanly fast, knocking down Hisoka with a bone crushing strength, his fists slamming into the clown’s teeth. Still, Morow grinned through the blood decorating his smile. “The best part is, _you don’t even know what you did wrong_.”

Illumi’s legs pinned down the magician, one hand was gripping his soaked shirt, his knuckles whiter than the rest of his skin. 

“You know _nothing_. Killua loves me.”

The paint on Hisoka’s face turned orange and purple as it mixed with blood. Rain flicking off of his eyelashes as he batted them daringly at the man on top of him. 

“Then why are you so defensive? Aw, did I hit a weak spot? Did mommy and daddy not love you enough as a child?” 

Hisoka laughed as Illumi hit him: again and again and again. Just as soon as cuts appeared on his knuckles they disappeared when the rain washed away his blood. 

“ _Shut up_.” He ground out through bared teeth, his hands reached for the needles on his belt.

“Careful now. Killing me means big trouble for you and your family. Can’t earn daddy’s respect by killing, what was I again? A circus freak?”

Illumi knew he was stuck between a rock and a hard place as he fixed his blazing gaze on Hisoka’s bloodied face. He watched in furious silence as more of the paint and blood mixture slid down Hisoka’s neck, staining the collar of his once billowing white shirt purple.

. . .

Taking advantage of Illumi’s current internal conflict, Hisoka slid up a hand and pushed down on his opponent’s doll-like face, slamming it into the mud. At the same time, his long legs hooked around the Zoldyck’s and swung, flinging his body underneath the magician’s. Illumi’s eyes burned brighter than before, a rampage behind his pupils. Hisoka caught a glimpse of his reflection in those all consuming black eyes of his enemy. 

_Wow. I look like shit. My hair looks pretty hot though._.

He used all of his strength to keep the angry Zoldyck down, pinning his pale arms above his head and forcing his legs down as Illumi violently jerked to escape. Hisoka could not help but notice the snakes of jet black hair stuck to the man’s face with rain, and a couple of leaves caught in the tangled mess surrounding his head like a devil’s halo. 

“You know,” Hisoka said calmly despite the situation, “if you weren’t such a stuck up rich prick you’d be quite pretty.” 

Something flashed behind Illumi’s eyes that Hisoka couldn’t pinpoint. Surprise? More wrath maybe? The sound of laughter coming from underneath him caught Hisoka off guard.

“In that case please take pleasure in knowing this ‘pretty face’ will be the last thing you see before I rip out your throat.” 

“You think I’m lying,” Hisoka deadpanned.

This time he could tell the expression written all over Illumi’s face was surprise, or perhaps befuddlement. 

“What?”

“You think I’m lying. You don’t think you’re pretty?”

Illumi froze, warily. For a moment he struggled a bit less, but that did not make Hisoka loosen his hold on his wrists.

“Unlike _some people_ not everyone is obsessed with themselves.” 

Hisoka emptily chuckled. “Good one. But Illumi, knowing your worth and having confidence do not make you selfish.”

Illumi diverted his eyes, staring at Hisoka’s stained collar instead of his accusing look, watching his throat bob as he breathed. Hisoka noticed while Illumi watched him how he had not been breathing this whole time, and remembering their first encounter, he realized he wasn’t back then in Chrollo’s tent either. His body was deathly cold under the weight of his own, and this time Hisoka did not write it off as a side effect of the rain or chilled air. He scoffed in amusement. 

“Ironic. A man with all the time in the world who can’t find any for himself without feeling ashamed. What a pity.”

Illumi’s eyes darted back up to Hisoka.

“I’m shocked I didn’t realize it sooner. My strength isn’t holding you down, my magic is.” He looked around, gesturing with his eyes to the colorful puddles all around them, a result of his earlier act. He slowly lifted his hands off of Illumi and watched him continue to struggle against the sludge sticking his body to the ground. 

“I call it Bungee Gum. It has the properties of both rubber and gum. Strong enough to keep even a _vampire like you_ down.

Illumi’s mouth opened slightly in surprise and quickly shut again, but not before Hisoka saw the tips of the man’s long canines peeking out under his perfectly shaped lips.

“Well Illumi Zoldyck, you just got incredibly more amusing.”

Illumi spit at the clown which, unfortunately for him, had no effect on Morow. 

“Why not just kill me now then? You have nothing to lose but so much to gain.” He growled. 

Hisoka laughed as he climbed off of his lap. “I prefer not to fight people that don’t know their true worth yet. You view yourself as disposable, a mere puppet for your family to use. Where would the fun in that be if I killed you before you found yourself worth more alive than dead?”

Illumi did not enlighten Hisoka with a proper response. Instead, he stared at the sky, watching lightning flash and rain fall all around them. Before Hisoka walked away he gave one last shred of information to his partner-in-despise: “Oh, and worry not. My magic should release you after about ten minutes. I’ll be seeing you around again soon, Zoldyck. Look forward to it~.” 

. . .

Long after Hisoka Morow had left and his magic had faded, Illumi found himself laying in the same spot in the clearing, surrounded by fallen trees and being soaked with rain. The droplets were still pounding down, but Illumi knew the weight pulling him to the earth were the magician’s words, not the unrelenting storm.

_“Well Illumi Zoldyck, you just got incredibly more amusing.”_

_“Where would the fun in that be if I killed you before you found yourself worth more alive than dead?”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Hope everyone likes the story so far, sorry if the chapters have been short I’m not very used to writing so much in one sitting but I’m working on making them longer~!
> 
> Please let me know what you think in the comments and if you have any questions that can be answered (without revealing too much of my future plans of course;)) please don’t be shy! I’d love to hear them!
> 
> I hope everyone’s doing well and for American readers that you had a good Thanksgiving yesterday and are happy and healthy:) <3


	7. CHAPTER 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Gon. Sweet, vibrant Gon was standing defensively in front of Killua. Fear was decorating his face like paint, but he was the wall in which Killua had hoped to become. Unbreakable, relentless, and refusing to stand down._

Killua stormed through the manor, slamming every door he blew through as he went, shaking the walls with pent up rage. 

. . .

_“Illumi!” He had yelled both in fear, surprise, and relief. The emotions flooded through him all at once, like being thrown through the stages of grief by his ankles, as he looked up into his brother’s eyes. Disappointment. Written all over Illumi’s dark eyes: disappointment, and violence. Killua felt his knees shake underneath him, being unable to shift his gaze._

_“Killua, how did this happen?”_

_How was he supposed to give Illumi an answer he would like? His chest sank as he realized he couldn’t._

_“I’m sorry, I didn’t think this would happen I just wanted to see the show I-“_

_“What were you thinking?!” The eldest Zoldyck finally erupted, breaking his calm exterior and releasing the wrath in his eyes that yearned to escape. Killua wanted to look down, to stare at his shoes now coated in a layer of his captors’ blood, to not be in this moment, but he couldn’t. All he could do was stare and shake._

_“Do you have any idea what could have happened?! You could have died! Alluka,” he waved a frantic hand towards their little sister, “could have died! How could you be so selfish, Killua?! And what will father say when he hears about this? It’s my ass on the line, I’m supposed to be in charge of you two!”_

_Tears threatened to streak down the boy’s face with every word his brother shouted, but crying was not for Zoldycks. He knew he deserved this. His nails dug into his palms as his fists balled. If he could not cry he would become a wall; unyielding and impenetrable to Illumi’s words. A warm hand grabbed his own, breaking Killua’s grip._

_“Its not his fault that this happened. How was he supposed to know we’d be attacked?”_

_Gon. Sweet, vibrant Gon was standing defensively in front of Killua. Fear was decorating his face like paint, but he was the wall in which Killua had hoped to become. Unbreakable, relentless, and refusing to stand down._

_“I don’t understand what happened here tonight, or why Alluka’s covered in blood or why we were tricked. But I’m not an idiot and neither is Killua, so lay off. Can’t you see how shaken up he is? How shaken we all are?”_

_Illumi’s glare pointed at Killua’s new friend, his only friend. His grip on the young Zoldyck boy only tightened as he squeezed his hand, never breaking eye contact with Illumi._

_“You,” Illumi strutted forward and poked Gon in the chest, hard. “shouldn’t even be here. Who are you?”_

_Gon’s chest rose and fell as he let huffed. “I’m Gon Freecs, and I’m Killua’s friend.”_

_Illumi laughed, the lifeless noise like glass shattering in the night, candy coated in annoyance and anger._

_“A friend? Killua doesn’t have any friends.”_

_Gon sneered at the man, the fear in his face slowly morphing into rage._

_“Yes, he does.“_

_Illumi bent down on his knees, his toned arms reached out and placed a slender hand on each of the little boy’s shoulders. Killua wanted to help, to push him away from Gon, but he couldn’t move._

_“No, Gon Freecs,” his voice sounded eerily calm and honey-like. His eyes trapped Gon in his manipulative stare as Illumi’s Bloodlust seeped all around them. Killua heard his voice echo in it, the sound whirling in his ears as it leaked into Gon’s mind, caressing his head with sweet sounding promises. “You aren’t. You don’t know Killua. You never met me, or Alluka, or any of the men that harmed you tonight. You didn’t like it did you?” Gon shook his head, entranced._

_“I didn’t. It hurt. I was scared.”_

_Illumi’s hand held the boy’s soft cheek, his aura hugging Gon. “I see. It doesn’t have to hurt anymore, you’re safe. This never happened. You never saw the show, met these men, and never saw Alluka do what she did tonight. Doesn’t that sound nice, Gon Freecs?”_

_A dazed smile pulled on Gon’s lips._

_“Yes. It does.”_

_Illumi smiled; not meeting his eyes as he whispered, “Good. Now go to the plaza, and stare in the fountain. Count to a hundred, and forget this ever happened. You can sleep now Gon. You can rest. Leave.”_

_Killua watched in shock as his friend left, knowing that with each step he erased one he took with him and Alluka. He was being forgotten, he was losing Gon. Without thinking, his nails grew into points._

_“I hate you!” He screamed at Illumi._

. . .

Remembering that night, Killua punched a vase, relishing the sound of glass shattering and ringing through the corridor. He found another one and did it again. He tore through paintings, tapestries, ripped up curtains and books. He smashed the walls, cutting his knuckles on splintering wood and shards of ruined pottery and porcelain, screaming with an unearthly rage all the while. 

“Are you done with your little tantrum?” A voice spoke, annoyed, from the end of the hall. Illumi. 

“What makes you think you have any right to talk to me after what you did?” Killua snarled. 

“Suddenly I need unnecessary permission to speak to my baby brother? Kil, I did not do what I did to hurt you, it wasn’t personal it was a precaution.” He began to take a step forward, only to be met with thrown glass. He easily dodged it and sighed. 

“Don’t call me that! You were jealous! You’ve never had any friends! You’re just angry that we could’ve gotten _you_ in trouble! Get out!” 

Illumi shook his head, and Killua had finally noticed how drenched to the bone his brother was as water sprinkled off of the tips of his hair. He didn’t care though, he hoped it was from almost drowning or some other unfortunate fate he had been wishing for Illumi the past couple of days. 

It was quiet for a long time. The only sounds were the wind blowing through the broken window Killua had punched. Finally, Illumi sighed. Killua noticed how tired he looked, the dark circles under his eyes, and colorful muddy mess coating his hair. 

_He looks like shit. Good. He deserves it._

“I’m sorry, Kil.” 

Killua shook his head in exasperation, “No, you’re not. You’re just sorry you were called out on your possessive, petty bullshit.”

Killua walked past Illumi, who made no move to stop him or respond, and left. He could physically feel the rift growing between him and his brother, and although somewhere deep down inside of Killua ached and mourned the ruination of their relationship, he welcomed it.

. . .

“Gon!” Mito cried as she flung her arms around her nephew, tears welling in her eyes. Gon flinched at the pain in his side, but smiled through it.

“Aunt Mito it’s okay, I’m fine,” he attempted to beam, trying to quell the worry she had been drowning in for the entire time Gon was asleep. 

“No, you aren’t, sweetie. Are you sure you can’t remember what happened? What were you doing out of bed?” The emotional pain on her face made Gon’s heart ache, as he wished he could have given her the answer she wanted to hear. 

“I’m sorry, I really don’t know. I’m so sorry for being such a nuisance-“ 

“No! Don’t say that, this isn’t your fault,” she interjected then sighed, “I really hope they find whoever was responsible for this. What kind of monster would attack a child? When you’re ready to go home I’ll put bolts on your bedroom window. In fact, I’ll even add more locks to the doors and other windows in the house. I promise nothing like this will ever happen again. Gon, honey, I’m so sorry I couldn’t protect you,” she could not stop the tears that fell down her face.

He placed his hand over her own and held it, gently. 

“It’s ok, really, I’m fine. This isn’t your fault either. We’ll be ok, both of us,” he smiled sweetly at his Aunt, hoping to ease the pain in her heart that threatened to pull her down deeper as she looked at the bandages wrapping up the boy she had raised as her own son for as long as Gon could remember. 

“Can we go home now? Please?”

Aunt Mito looked over to Dr. Leorio, asking for permission. He nodded.

“Of course sweetie, we can go home. Do you need any help getting up?”

Gon shook his head in response and stood up on his own, the ache in his bones beginning to soften with the medicine Leorio administered to him before Mito had entered the room. 

The circus flyer was hidden in his pocket, away from his aunt’s vision. Gon had no idea why it was with him when he was found, or for how long it had really been there, but he had a stubborn feeling that refused to diminish: that the circus was connected to the attack. 

As they walked out of the clinic, Gon noticed a new patient entering; a delicate looking teenage boy with bright blonde hair and grey eyes, clutching at what appeared to be a stab wound on his shoulder. Mito quickly shielded Gon from the bloody view, but it was too late for him to not notice the young man. The last thing Gon saw before leaving the building was Dr. Leorio rushing to the stranger’s aide.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry this took longer than the other chapters, but hopefully you guys like it and are all doing well! Feel free to let me know in the comments what you think:) ~


	8. CHAPTER 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _His lips curled into a smile, the excitement still buzzing in his fingertips and morphing into small sparks shooting out of his skin like falling stars._

“Explain again why we can’t leave this rotten town yet?” Hisoka grumbled, fidgeting with his playing cards while resting his arms on the small table. 

“Because,” Chrollo crossed his arms across his chest, “we’ve been delayed like hell. Tornados are tearing down what was supposed to be our next spot, Feitan crashed the clown car, one of the tigers is about to give birth, and whatever else could possibly go wrong is bound to happen next.” He slammed a hand against the table in frustration and massaged his forehead. Hisoka watched the fine lines of the cross tattoo that resided on his ringleader’s head wrinkle as the skin moved where his fingers pressed. 

“This weeks been a shitshow,” Uvo agreed with a growl in his voice. 

“Could be worse boss, remember that time we ran into the rival circus with the angry fire breathers? They almost burned down our tents,” Pakunoda, the troupe’s witch and fortune teller, laughed. The atmosphere lightened as a smile pulled on Chrollo’s lips and he chuckled. 

“My hair smelled like smoke for days no matter how much I washed it!,” Uvo added in. 

“Oh please, don’t pretend like you know what a bath is,” Machi rolled her eyes. The troupe burst into laughter and Uvo’s face turned red.

“Chrollo, I really thought you and their ringleader were hitting it off for a while there, what was it you said to her?” Hisoka finally chimed in. 

The boss shook his head and laughed, “I said she had nice eyes.” 

“So you took em!” Uvo yelled at him, resulting in another round of laughter and hoots. 

“So he took them!” They all cheered like mischievous pirates in cahoots. 

“Yes I did,” Chrollo tossed his head back, “no one treats my troupe the way she and her little rag tag group of untalented performers did! We’re a family, and anyone who disrupts that will earn the same fate.”

A wave of seriousness washed over their faces as his words sunk in. Uvo stood up, the card tower Hisoka had been playing with collapsing as his weight shook the room, and whooped. The others joined in pursuit. 

“That’s my troupe! Now back to work people we’ve got a show to put on!”

As the members filed out of Chrollo’s tent and made their way to the main area where the night’s show would be held, Hisoka took his time scanning the area around him. His eyes were met with colorful tapestries, women hanging up their costumes on clothes lines and talking amongst themselves, strongmen helping anyone who needed a hand carrying a heavy basin, people going in and out of tents carrying props, and all sorts of casual pre-show affairs. 

His own act didn’t require much preparing because it was mainly performing magic and card tricks. Really, all he had to do was make sure he had his cards, check his hair and makeup, and decide which tricks would best wow his adoring crowd. Magic had always come easy to him, and given that most people didn’t have the ability to wield it he was a crowd favorite. That is, when certain backwoods towns didn’t accuse him of witchcraft and grab their pitchforks. 

Still, not much could compare to the buzz of excitement in the air before a performance, and it had been that way for as long as the magician knew. As he breathed in he could almost smell it, or maybe that was just something going wrong or that Zoldyck guy trying to kill people again. 

_“Nope. Don’t smell blood or smoke.”_

It was definitely just the pre show atmosphere, but suddenly at his inner monologue’s mention of Illumi he was captivated by a different kind of excitement. The cold tips of Illmi’s slender fingers could still be felt against Hisoka’s skin, and the murderous intent in his opponents eyes was riveting to say the very least. The only thing in Morow’s mind that could top an act was a good fight, something which only the strongest of rivals could beat him at, making the appeal of Illumi Zoldyck’s loathing much more enticing. 

_”Perhaps being stuck in this town for so long won’t be ~so~ bad.”_

He just had one issue: Illumi’s clear lack of sense of self. If Hisoka were to be beat in combat then he wanted the fight to have been worth it, he refused to battle only a shell of a man. Where would the fun in that be? It would be like fighting a shadow; absolutely pointless.

_“It really is a shame, I wasn’t kidding when I said he was gorgeous.”_

How could he have been? Illumi was pretty in the way that makes people fall in love with ghosts. He was hauntingly beautiful; strong yet gentle bone structure, pale porcelain skin, slanted eyes as dark as the night sky, waist long ink-black hair, and a tall, toned body, which had been hidden in both of their encounters by elegant dresses that only amplified his dangerously ethereal look.

Hisoka couldn’t help but feel jealous at how the man’s beauty would never fade, nor would his age ever show. Hisoka could never understand immortality, nor had he found a spell to grant him the gift which Illumi Zoldyck had entered their world with. Vampires were mysterious creatures. The magician had only met a few in his life, but none of which were entertaining enough to capture his attention for more than a conversation or two, but from what he had gathered from those small chats vampires were strong and ruthless. Hisoka had never fought one, but he wanted to. He _really_ wanted to. His rendezvous with the young vampire in the woods had shown him only a glimpse of Illumi’s power, but he yearned to unlock the rest of his potential. 

“Hisoka!” A voice snapped him out of his thoughts, “we’re about to go on? Are you ready?” 

His lips curled into a smile, the excitement still buzzing in his fingertips and morphing into small sparks shooting out of his skin like falling stars. 

“Ready as I’ll ever be doll~“ he winked in response, before stepping through the velvet red curtains. 

Lights shone on his painted face, and as his eyes adjusted to the main tent he raked his eyes over the audience. 

“Full house tonight,” He heard Paku whisper to Machi from his side. 

Indeed it was. Unfamiliar faces adorned the tent, the scent of carney snacks wafted into his nose, and laughter and cheers were shouted from the rows of seats. 

“Ladies and gentlemen!” Chrollo began announcing. 

Hisoka’s eyes scanned the audience again, an old habit of his. 

“Boys and girls!”

A pair of dark eyes, starlit with the tent lighting, locked on Hisoka’s. Sparks began to slip out of the magician’s hands which were hidden behind his back.

“Pleasure seeing you here,” Hisoka mouthed. 

“Likewise,” was the stone faced response he was met with.

The man’s hair was pinned half up half down, his usual elegant dress replaced with a more casual dark green long coat and brown trousers. Even without the whimsical embroideries and full skirts he looked like a prince hiding amongst peasants. Illumi was breathtaking, from his gently sloped nose Hisoka yearned to break to his exposed neck Hisoka ached to rip apart. 

“The Phatom Troupe!”

The crowd erupted with applause, even Illumi slightly tapped his hands together, although he looked like he had never done anything like it before. Hisoka had to stifle a laugh at his ridiculous attempt at blending in. 

. . .

The show went by without incident. Hisoka killed his performance, as usual, which had little effect on the eldest Zoldyck son. Morow had kept a watchful eye on him at all times during the night, and the only time Illumi even seemed mildly impressed was when he saw the big cats. Although, even that was just a practically invisible widening of his eyes.

 _”Jeez, he must be one criminally boring bedfellow.”_ Hisoka chuckled to himself, despite having no doubt in his mind Illumi had never done anything of the sort. Still, he pitied anyone who managed to climb that particularly difficult tree.

After the performance, Hisoka walked back to his tent, where he found Illumi waiting. 

“Miss me so soon?” Hisoka arched an eyebrow and pushed past the man to his makeup table where he began to take off his face paint and brush out his hair. 

“Don’t be foolish.”

Hisoka waited a few more seconds with no more response from the man in his tent before prompting him some more, “Cat got your tongue? On with it, why are you here?” 

Illumi’s hand twitched, Hisoka knew he was reaching for his pins on instinct but held himself back. Interesting. 

“Why did you say those things to me in the woods?”

Hisoka sighed. “I refuse to fight you until you’re worth killing, to both yourself and I.” 

“You’re an idiot. I’m just as good dead now than ever.” Illumi’s eyebrows were tensing in annoyance. 

_”Why is he so interested in wanting me to kill him? Or is there more? What a strange, strange man.”_

“Wrong, if I’m going to kill you I want it to be the best version of you. Not a husk, not a toy. I want the full potential of the wrath of Illumi Zoldyck. It’s no fun otherwise.” 

“So you’ve mentioned.” 

Hisoka set down his hairbrush and turned to face the Zoldyck directly, not just his reflection in the mirror. 

“Tell me, why aren’t you wearing a dress tonight?” 

Illumi looked confused, genuinely caught off guard. 

“To blend in, obviously.”

Hisoka laughed and shook his head before standing up to face him full on.

“You don’t seem to get it Illumi. People like you aren’t meant to blend in. You couldn’t if you tried, don’t downplay that to minimize yourself. Even now, you stand out like a sore thumb amongst everyone else, and yet you don’t even realize it. And then you have the nerve to enter my personal tent and ask me questions I’ve already answered? Why come all this way just to confirm that you don’t see yourself the way you should? Do you really hate yourself that much? Don’t play the ignorant masochist, Illumi.” Hisoka made sure to tauntingly draw out the syllables in his name, expecting to only irk him further. 

Instead, he laughed, and the two were so close that the escaped air brushed past Hisoka’s face. His breath smelled like rust and chamomile, and he noticed the hints of red on the man’s elongated canines. Illumi only continued to surprise the magician when he leaned into his ear, his hair falling on Hisoka’s shoulders. 

“You were just a quick stop along the way. I’ve seen your show Hisoka Morow, and you’re not the main act, neither are you my main interest at the moment. Don’t speak of what you don’t understand.” His jabbed an icy finger on Hisoka’s chest, knocking the clown back down onto the chair he previously occupied, before turning and leaving, barely making a noise. 

For a while, Hisoka could only stare at the tent entrance flapping in the wind, the only trace Illumi had left in his departure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! Sorry this chapter took so long I’ve been kinda busy, but hopefully you guys like it despite the delay. Please feel free to let me know in the comments what you think so far!


	9. CHAPTER 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _If Killua had a heart it would certainly be beating hard in his chest._

Silva was still away. 

In the confinement of his tattered bedroom Killua imagined all of the ways his father would descend upon his eldest brother when he returned from his travels. Choking, scorching, drowning. None of which seemed fitting enough to the young Zoldyck. But then, in the overactive and disturbingly violent mind of the boy, he wished the own pain inflicted on himself. Perhaps Illumi was right, maybe he _wasn’t_ created to be anything other than lonesome for all of his days. 

The ticking of the clock on the wall mocked him. Time would pass, and the bird in its little prison of painted wood and cogs would escape for a synchronized moment each hour every day to laugh at the boy. One day the wood will splinter, the glass crack, the paint chip, and all that would be left in the dusted, decaying room would be the vampire in his nest having felt only a mere breath go by. 

With each jeering hoot of the clock he could imagine Gon’s bones stretch as he grew into a man. He saw his hair change shades like the seasons, a soft wintery white overtaking the dark strands. Killua imagined if Illumi hadn’t broken up the two: Gon’s weathered hands would hold his friends youthful fingers. His skin would spot and crack, the leathery folds wrinkling. A fear of mortality began to arise in Killua. Not for himself, but for the only friend he had ever known. He imagined throwing a ball too hard and elderly Gon’s ribs cracking, the sound echoing in the aristocrat child’s mind along with his brothers warnings.

Still, Killua lacked the willpower to shove away thoughts of Illumi’s despair for what he had done. He wished he had the sense of responsibility and duty that his brother possessed, but he was a child. Vampire or not, isolation hurt more than any sunshine in his eyes or stake in his heart. 

For a moment, and not a millisecond longer, Killua remembered the shadow of Illumi’s parasol sheltering his head from the sky. Where a precious love had bloomed a renewed anger spread. Why was it his place to decide what was good for Killua? After all, _he_ was the rightful heir to the Zoldyck name, not Illumi. 

_Illumi took Gon because he’s jealous he wasn’t born with the sign of the heir. He took my friend because he’s jealous of my white hair._

Killua’s blazing blue eyes grazed over the expanse of his room. Gray walls, wooden floors, a grand armoire and useless bed, and scattered toys adorned the child’s living quarters. A window inlaid in the west wall was cracked, inviting a summer breeze into the space. Killua nose twitched as he smelled the mist in the air mingling with the sent of blooming honeysuckles.

He laid on the floor, something he had seen Illumi do many times to the endless teasing of Milluki, and listened to the outside world. In the distance a bird chirped as it searched for it’s mate before settling down for the night. Killua’s outstretched fingertips grew further and further away from the dimming sunlight pooling through the crack in the window. In the yard he heard Mike, their absurdly large guard dog (although beast is a more accurate term) digging holes to bury the bones of intruders in. A gate creaked in the distance, grabbing Killua’s attention.

He had heard Illumi leave earlier, but this time he steps sounded more rushed than before. If Killua wasn’t mistaken he could have sworn he heard more than two feet scuffling through the fields in front of the manor. Were father and mother home? 

As the boy made his way to his feet in a hurry he tripped over cracked porcelain dolls and drop spindles. A cut raked across his exposed knee, and as Killua wiped the weeping blood from the wound with his sleeve the blemish was nowhere to be found. The only thing his garment ran across was untouched, poreless pale skin. His blood smelled of rusting metals and wilting flowers, much like the ones in the family garden. 

The vampire boy finally reached the window and peered his head out. He was unable to spot the people in the yard. With inhuman speed and grace he rushed to the door, swinging the heavy wood open and running towards the stairs. 

What he found at the bottom of the staircase stopped him in his tracks. If Killua had a heart it would certainly be beating hard in his chest, not unlike the pounding pulse of his unexpected visitor who was standing with a dazed look by the eldest Zoldyck boy. 

“Gon?”


End file.
